Springing from Breakpoint
by bana05
Summary: While on spring break in Miami, Sam Evans realizes it's time to put up or shut up when it comes to his best friend Mercedes Jones.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Springing from Breakpoint  
><strong>Author:<strong> bana05  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Mercedes/Sam  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> None - AU  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> While on spring break in Miami, Sam Evans realizes it's time to put up or shut up when it comes to his best friend Mercedes Jones.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Conflictfetish prompted me this: "An old friend of Sam's comes to visit from the South. While hanging out, Mercedes finds out something about Sam that she didn't know, or discovers a side of him that wasn't revealed before, and she doesn't like it. They have an argument, and Sam has to woo her back." I tweaked some things around, made it AU, and then it got away from me. Hopefully, it's still okay and y'all will enjoy! Also, please forgive any lingering errors!

* * *

><p>For a short, fat girl wearing tall wedges, a wonderfully indecently tight minidress, and slight inebriation, Mercedes Jones had a bit of pep to her step; so much so that Sam Evans had to walk-jog in order to catch up with her as she marched down the sidewalk. He almost growled at the appreciative looks, catcalls, and whistles sent her way, but Mercedes didn't acknowledge anything but the Art Deco condo building in the distance.<p>

"Mercedes—"

She didn't turn around, but she did raise a hand to him—or rather, one lone finger that just also happened to be the longest one—and kept it moving. Sam was so shocked he stopped and gaped at the obscene gesture, wincing as passersby cackled at him, before jogging again to reclaim the ground he'd lost.

He knew if she got to that condo without him it would be a wrap—_for the remainder of their spring break_— so he turned on the jets and actually _ran_ until he blocked her path, gripping her shoulders when she would've bulldozed right over him. They were only on night two of six; he had to fix this shit _now_.

"Mercedes—"

"You know what? _Fuck you_ with a rusty chainsaw, Samson Evans! Get your gotdamn hands _off_!"

She screeched the last word, making him wince again and distracting him just enough so she could slap his hands away and continue her march.

_This_ time he didn't follow her, throwing his arms in the air in frustration. "He was just gonna hit it and quit it, Merce! I couldn't let him do that to you!"

_This_ time she stopped all on her own and slowly turned to him, placed a hand on an ample hip, and eyed him like he'd never been eyed before.

Sam gulped. Hard. "Mer—"

"But you could let him do that to _other_ girls?" Mercedes asked, pitching forward just a little. She was standing directly beside a lamppost, the amber light, now a spotlight to her pose. She looked pissed and fierce as hell, and Sam had to shuffle his stance to alleviate the force of her gaze and the tightness growing in his pants.

_When did she become so hot?_ he asked himself, his hand twitching with the need to make a crotch adjustment.

Truth be told, she'd been "hot" the moment he'd seen her early in the fall semester of their freshman year, looking all Bohemian hip-hop with funky earrings, an off-the-shoulder mango top that offset her dark skin and exposed a brown tank-top strap he'd wanted to snap with his teeth, and a long, flowy black-and-gold swirl skirt with gladiator sandals. And while Sam wasn't usually the type to commit someone's outfit to memory, Mercedes Jones had been looking too fine not to take a mental snapshot of that, even if she'd been doing something as mundane as sitting in the quad and reading, of all things, a _Vixen_ comic.

That alone had dictated Sam to strike up a conversation with her.

She'd looked at him warily when he'd approached, no doubt wondering if he were lost considering not many white people attended Central State University—let alone out-of-state white people. But his best friend Carlos Gutiérrez had _begged_ him to tag along with him on a district-wide college tour during spring break their junior year in high school; and although Sam had attended an all-boys boarding school, he'd been allowed to take the trip with Carlos.

It'd been cold, with overcast skies, but the CSU campus had been dynamic with activity when the tour had stopped there. Of all the schools they'd visited, it'd been Sam's favorite, especially since they'd been treated to a performance by the Central State Chorus. They'd been amazing, to the point he'd had to wipe tears from his eyes when it'd sung its rendition of "Steal Away".

Carlos had ragged on him about that for the entire nine-hour bus ride back to Memphis.

He hadn't questioned why, out of all the schools, CSU had been the one for him—especially considering he wasn't a target demographic—but when he'd seen the golden girl on that bench reading that comic, Sam thought he'd finally discovered the answer.

He and Mercedes had struck up a friendship that day, talking for a long time on that bench before sharing a meal together afterwards. They'd learned he was majoring in Studio Arts and playing on the football team while she was majoring in Music Performance and Music Education. When she'd revealed she was part of the chorus, Sam had almost pumped his fists in the air. He'd asked her to sing a little something for him—actually "Steal Away"—and she'd blinked at him in surprise before softly singing the chorus. He'd closed his eyes and put his hand over his chest as it'd swelled with each note she'd sung.

Mercedes Jones had claimed ownership of his heart that day, too; it'd just taken him until tonight to admit it.

Tonight, when he'd _finally_ had the opportunity to introduce her to Carlos, who'd ended up going to the University of Miami on a football scholarship—for kicking of all things. Usually, Sam would visit him alone for spring break—Miami was a hell of a lot sexier in terms of location and girls—but after two years of talking "nonstop" about Mercedes, as Carlos had put it, his friend had said it was beyond time he'd met the _mamacita_.

"And wonder what her deficiency is that you haven't _tapped that_ yet!" Carlos had snickered irritatingly.

Sam hadn't appreciated the insinuation or the implication. There was absolutely _nothing_ wrong with Mercedes Jones. If anything, she was too damn _right_ for a guy like him. Sure, he was a church-going, Mama-respecting Southern boy, but Mercedes Jones was the _Vince Lombardi trophy _of women, and he hadn't been ready for that yet. Not only that, Sam hadn't thought he was her type, quite honestly. She'd dated a big, black, hulking linebacker of a dude from freshman to junior year, his teammate Shane Tinsley. Dude could've squashed Sam like a gnat if he'd ever discovered the thoughts he'd had about his girlfriend; but Shane had truly treated Mercedes like the goddess she was until he'd decided to enter the NFL draft early and they'd decided to end their relationship on good terms. That hadn't meant Sam had been exempt from consolation duties. He'd held Mercedes many a night as she'd cried those few weeks after.

So excuse the _hell_ out of him if he'd pumped the brakes on his _boy_ making the moves on _his girl_ when she wasn't but three months fresh off a break up of a long-term relationship!

"_Well_?"

Sam blinked, mildly surprised by his jaunt down memory lane and the fact Mercedes had stood and stared at him during it. Then Sam smiled, stuffing his fingers in his jeans pockets as he sauntered toward her. She didn't change her posture, but her eyebrow did rise higher and her lips pursed as if unaffected by his swagger.

Oh, yeah, he had _swagger_.

She'd told him so, in fact, the first time he'd walked with her through campus after their first football game (they'd won, of course) and she'd noticed how all the girls had stopped and stared at him. He'd joked it was because he was one of three white boys at the school; and she'd turned around and said it was because he was one of the three _fine_ boys at the school—color be damned. Tall, blond, athletic, and genuinely _nice_—he had his pick of the pussy and she'd told him so, _just like that_. The last thing he'd expected out of her prim, Christian mouth was such a crass word.

It'd made him hard as a brick too.

But while Mercedes had been in her state of monogamy, Sam hadn't been so constrained. He didn't exactly have a reputation as a manwhore, but he'd had his fair share of women. Most of the relationships had been casual and consensual, though he was still a one-woman man through it all. He didn't like starting something new without finishing the old; it made things unnecessarily messy. He'd even tried his own crack at monogamy, with one of Mercedes' best friends from high school at that, Quinn Fabray. Mercedes introduced them and sang each other's praises as if she were performing a one-night-only stint on the Apollo Theater stage. Incidentally, they'd both had internships in New York City that summer, at the same publishing conglomerate no less, and they'd decided to make a summer fling out of it. And while Quinn might have been one of the smartest, most beautiful women he'd ever met, she still couldn't meet the standard Mercedes had unwittingly set.

Even if Quinn went to _Yale_ and looked like she should grace the magazine covers her internship published_._

"You're not that kind of girl, Mercedes," Sam said as he returned to the present, getting all in her personal space but keeping his hands to himself.

"_What_ kind of girl?" Mercedes asked, now folding her hands underneath her breasts. Never before had Sam seen such a perfect pair and his mouth watered. They were so perfect that not even the lack of cleavage afforded by the teal dress could hide the fact they were spectacular. Large, supple looking, generous—he could play with those babies all day and night if she'd let him.

_Him_. Not fucking Carlos or Shane or anyone else. He was done with that.

"A 'roll-in-the-hay' kind of girl," Sam said, shrugging.

Mercedes cut her eyes away and shifted her posture, now cocking her hips to the left instead of the right. "You know what? I watched you and Carlos do this 'tag-team' thing all night, where you'd pick out a girl for some 'fun' and Carlos would soften her up for you. I didn't like—in fact, it made my stomach roil a bit—but that was _your_ business and _your_ penis at risk for chlamydia—"

"I wrap up Thor—"

"I'll always judge you so hard for that," Mercedes informed him.

"And I get tested every six months," Sam continued, ignoring her interruption, and then gave her a blinding smile.

She looked away again and scrunched up her face, but he knew she was trying not to laugh.

"But I'm serious," Sam said, reaching out to grasp her shoulder because he wasn't able _not_ to touch her anymore. "What's a spring break fling? You, who was practically married to Shane and just got out of a long-term relationship—"

"_Exactly_!" Mercedes hissed. "And it's been _months_ since I've gotten any, and you just fucked up my opportunity to get fucked! I don't appreciate that, Samson Evans!"

"_With my best friend_?"

"Why not? He's nice; he's cute; and he's _your_ best friend, which means he has to be a decent guy! Better than some random we _both_ don't know, right?"

"_Hell no_!" Sam said through clenched jaws. "Bros before hos—!"

"So now I'm a _ho_? Just because I want to get broke off?" Mercedes huffed out a laugh and took a step away from him. "Boy! You ain't my daddy! And unless you feedin' me, financin' me, or fuckin' me, you don't get a say on how I live _my _life!"

And with that, Mercedes spun around and continued her march toward their rented condo. Sam muttered a curse under his breath, dragging his hand through his blond hair, and waited another few seconds until he began following her again. She didn't know these streets well enough, and he'd rather her chew his ear off than have some random-ass dude with _no_ good intentions offer his "help".

No, fuck all that.

He sent her a text letting her know he was following her, and she gave him another one-finger salute. Sam grinned. Who knew that underneath the happy drunk was also a belligerent one?

He didn't immediately enter the condo after her, deciding to give her some time to cool down before he did so. They were sharing a room on this trip—two full beds—because everyone else other than Carlos had been boo'd up and he didn't trust Carlos any further than he could throw an F-150. Carlos had given him hell for that, particularly after he'd finally met Mercedes.

"Guard dog," he'd said, snickering as they'd watched Mercedes talk with Carlos's friends. They'd been at a local bar all crammed in a booth. One of the girlfriends had commandeered Mercedes to the opposite side of the table and Sam had been trying not to sulk about it.

"Yep," Sam had replied.

"This is gonna bite you, dude."

"Good thing I'm a tasty S.O.B., innit?" Sam had replied with a wink, his turn to snicker when Carlos had groaned and shoved him hard for that.

And with karma nipping at his ass, he entered the condo just in time to catch a pillow to the face.

"Ow," Sam said deadpan, even though he wasn't in any pain.

"Futon tonight, _buddy_."

"Uh, hell no," Sam said again, tucking the pillow under his arm. Mercedes was wearing a shelf-tank and tiny shorts that was hell on his libido.

"Well, too fucking bad. I'm horny and I need to do something about it and I can't have you in there with me—"

"Why not?"

Mercedes frowned at him. "Uh…_what_?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe I could help."

Mercedes closed her eyes, dropped her head, then shook it. "Well, clearly I'm even more inebriated than I thought. Maybe I should just take my horny-ass to bed because I know I'm hearing things—"

"Wait, so you'll accept _Carlos's_ help but not mine?"

"Yep," Mercedes said on a groan, standing and stretching.

"Uh, _why_?"

"Because I won't have to see his face again but occasionally. I can fuck him without fucking things up. Can't do that with you."

"Why?"

Mercedes dropped her hands heavily and shook her head again, staring at the ceiling. "Sam. You're the most important person in my life who isn't family. Hell—you _are_ family—"

"Don't even _think_ of saying I'm like a brother to you."

Her eyes snapped to him. "Whoa, son, what's with the tone?"

He ignored the question and her, he now taking over stomping duties as he entered their shared bedroom. He threw the pillow back on the bed he slept in and yanked off his shirt. The only thing worse than being friend-zoned is being _brother-zoned_. There was literally no coming back from that. Had he played it so close to the vest he'd put himself out of the running completely?

"Sam?"

"Not right now," he ground out, his tone not as rough as before, but he still wasn't cool enough to face her.

"I didn't mean to make you mad."

"You're the most frustrating woman sometimes, Mercedes," he admitted on a sardonic laugh, shucking off his jeans and toeing off his Chucks.

"But I was just _saying_—"

"Something I _really_ don't wanna hear, not from you," Sam said.

"Why?"

"I don't wanna be your brother."

Mercedes sucked her teeth and scoffed. "Oh, wait, so now _you_ salty? Did I cockblock_ you_? Nobody _told_ you to babysit me on this trip! You _invited _me to come and I said yes because, for once, I just wanted to have a _good time_ without having to worry about my _behavior_ or anything like that! Bein' a gotdamn goody two-shoes! But here you are actin' like my keeper! What's up with that? Just because I'm from small-town Ohio doesn't mean I'm _completely_ naïve, _Memphis_!"

Sam chuckled. She hadn't called him that since the beginning of sophomore year. "I know, Mercedes."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Right now, I'm trippin' out over the fact you're mad I didn't let you get treated like some ol' girl at the bar."

"Because that's who I wanted to _be_!" Mercedes said. "I wanted to do something _reckless_, just to say I could. I'd fallen into a rut at _twenty_! I need life-lessons so I can pass _something_ on to my future children other than _boredom_!"

He turned to her then, his green eyes ablaze. "Then do something reckless with me."

Again, she shook her head and brushed away his words. "No. I don't want any regrets."

"What's there to regret?" Sam asked now approaching her, internally cheering she stayed her ground. He let his eyes drift over her, then his hand followed suit along her cheek, down her neck, to the slim strap of her tank, and he slipped his thumb underneath it. "What's more reckless than gettin' busy with your 'like a brother' friend?"

"Ew."

Sam laughed darkly. "Does it count if I don't think of you as a sister?"

She grinned at him. "You sure treat me like one."

"Damn; and here I was going for jealous boyfriend."

Her grin faded and she sobered up a bit going by the sudden clarity in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but he shut it with a kiss to her bared shoulder. She was salty from lingering perspiration and _delicious_. He moaned as he straightened, licking his lips and staring into her eyes.

"I'm drunk."

"And that's the only thing stopping me from throwing you on that mattress and fucking every familial feeling you have for me out of you."

"But if I were ol' girl at the bar?"

"Consensual sex only, Vixen."

She beamed at him then and he smiled. He'd called her Vixen to get her attention the very first time they'd met because he'd been sure "shorty" would've gotten him ignored. And though he'd eventually started calling her by her real name and variations thereof, he'd go back to Vixen to keep her on her toes.

"So you don't bang buzzed girls?"

"I have," Sam admitted. "But I'm usually buzzed too. I don't liquor girls up so I can lick 'em up and dick 'em out. Besides, drunk sex isn't all that great—it's sloppy, uncoordinated. Sober sex is where it's at."

Mercedes took a deep breath and shook her head. "I'm not horny anymore."

"Didn't think you would be," Sam said.

"Farreal?"

"You're a happy drunk, not a horny one. Besides, you liquored yourself up just so you could have the courage to be reckless."

Mercedes pouted and dropped her forehead to his chest. "Get me some water. I don't want a hangover."

Chuckling, Sam kissed her cheek and did as told. By the time he returned, Mercedes was snuggled under the covers and blinking slowly, just a few winks away from being knocked the fuck out.

"Wakey-wakey just a little longer, Merce," Sam said softly and sat on her bed to coax her up. She whined but did as told, throwing an arm over his shoulders and smooshing her face into his bicep.

"Would you really want to fuck me?" she asked.

Sam smiled a little, holding up a Krispy Kreme cruller for her to eat. "I have some Advil for you, Vixen."

She opened her mouth and he fed her the doughnut. After she swallowed, he handed her two pills and a glass of water, watching her to make sure she downed the entire glass after taking the medicine.

"Now, bed," Sam said, tucking her in.

"Do jealous boyfriends tuck in their girlfriends?" Mercedes asked on a sleepy giggle.

"Yes," Sam said, kissing her forehead gently, "usually after a good fuckin', though."

Mercedes cackled, then moaned, cradling her forehead. "Asshole."

"You love me," he challenged.

"You lucky I do," she agreed.

She fell asleep almost immediately, but Sam didn't follow her to dreamland. Instead, he sat in the living room in his boxers until the rest of his housemates returned. A few of the girlfriends threw him lascivious winks, appreciating his boxer-clad form and he returned them good-naturedly; but his grin faded slightly when Carlos staggered through the door.

"Hey, _dude_!" he greeted and waved his arms widely, as if Sam were fifty feet away instead of just five. "Did _Mamacita_ make it home all right? She tore out like a bat oudda he—"

Sam slammed Carlos against the wall next to his room. "Would you have fucked her?"

"Yeah!" Carlos said and sniggered. "Who am I to tell a willin' lady _noooo_—?"

Sam banged him against the wall again. "_Mercedes_!"

Carlos frowned, then widened his eyes. "No! At least, not like that—"

"Carlos, so help me _Jesus_—"

"She ain't yours, Sammy-boy! She's free and fair game! You might wanna shove your own damn self against the wall instead o' me, hmm? Better me than some _stranger bitch_, right? _Right_?" Carlos asked, shoving Sam away with more force and alacrity than a "drunk" man should have.


	2. Chapter 2

Mercedes took it easy the next day and Sam gave her space. She kept shooting him measured looks and he would return them with a smile. He knew she was trying to figure out if alcohol had affected her hearing or he'd been truthful, but this was a conversation meant for sober minds and privacy.

When they went out that night, Mercedes boycotted the hard drinks and Sam followed suit. He was finally ready to put up or shut up, and he didn't want Mercedes to "blame it" on the alcohol. As it were, sobriety definitely didn't do him any favors in that regard, for her dancing was even more alluring now than it'd been when Captain Morgan had guided her moves.

"Are you sure you're in love with her?" Carlos groaned sarcastically into his gin and tonic.

Sam didn't even dignify that with a response.

"Then you should go out there with her instead of mean-mugging any dude who gets within eighty feet of her."

Sam smirked and set down his Mountain Dew. "That's the smartest thing you've said…_ever_…"

"Kiss my ass, Evans."

"Not your ass I'm interested in," Sam murmured, watching Mercedes dip it low and bring it back up slow. He almost growled at some of the other admirers she had, but she didn't notice because she was too busy laughing it up with the girlfriends of the crew. Juvenile's "Slow Motion" came on, an oldie but a goodie, and Mercedes' hips did the most indecent figure eight Sam had ever seen. Groaning low in his throat, Sam came right up behind her and pressed his crotch right into her ass, mimicking her roll. She tensed, but Sam placed gentle hands on her hips and kissed the hinge of her jaw.

"It's just me," he whispered, knowing she heard despite the loud music shouting of the other clubbers.

"Sam…"

"Don't get shy on me now," Sam said, grinning against her damp skin. She'd stopped dancing, but he used his hips and hands to get her moving again. "C'mon, Vixen, show me how you do."

"You ain't ready, Memphis," Mercedes challenged.

Sam chuckled low and licked away a tendril of sweat next to her ear. "Try me, boo."

Mercedes moaned softly, but then she ground her ass into his crotch and he immediately came to attention. She gasped and looked at him over her shoulder, then settled her lips into a grin.

"Well, hallelujah _amen_, Mr. Evans," Mercedes crooned, grinding even more against him. "You give the phrase 'big man on campus' an _entirely_ different meaning."

Sam bit his bottom lip and let his eyes go dark, bringing her flush against him with his large, wide palm settled right above her pelvic bone. "I'll be more than willing to help you get better acquainted with the _definition_."

Mercedes whimpered, bringing her arm behind her to wrap around his hips. Sam kept his face buried in her neck, inhaling her salty-sweet scent, licking and kissing her damp skin, panting and moaning in her ear as her ass made him harder and harder. Feeling bold, Sam allowed his hand to slide south, glad she was wearing another short minidress (tangerine) and stilettos (red) this time so she was just tall enough for what he wanted to do.

But she gripped his wrist. "Where are you going?"

"To heaven," Sam whispered, tugging on her earlobe.

"And how you know that's not really hell?" Mercedes sassed, now looking over her shoulder at him again.

Sam grinned and brushed his nose against hers even as he took both their hands underneath the hem of her dress. "Because you're my angel, Mercedes."

The thong she wore was already soaked. Sam lightly kissed her nose as he made both of their fingers slide the crotch aside to caress the slick softness underneath. Mercedes hissed and sank against him, her hips now focused on their hands instead of his crotch.

By this point the song had changed, but Sam was focused on the melody of Mercedes' gasps and sighs. She was so damn soft, so damn wet, so damn _hot_, and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees and worship her with his mouth.

She started trembling, and Sam used his free hand to anchor her to him. "You comin' for me, Vixen?"

"Sam," she whispered, her eyes dragging closed.

"Flood my hand, baby; it's a big hand, and I want it _drenched_," he commanded, sliding two fingers in her tight, sopping heat.

She wasn't stingy with her offering. Sam gathered her scream in his mouth, his free hand bending her head backwards to accomplish the feat. After she finished, Mercedes yanked her head away and panted heavily, Sam still patting her swollen mound to bring her gently from her high.

With shaky hands, Mercedes opened her clutch and pulled out a wet wipe, tearing open the package before using it between her legs and over their hands. Sam nibbled on the upper curve of her ear and tsked.

"I wanted to suck you off me," he whispered.

"Maybe some other time," she replied, spinning toward him and squeezing his hard cock through his pants before sauntering off with the rest of the girlfriends. Sam smirked at the extra pep in her step, liking this one far better than the last time she'd walked away from him.

_Stomped_.

Sam knew Mercedes had expected him to pounce on her the moment they were alone in their room after their night on the town, given the wary glances she sent his way, but he found renewed patience after their interlude on the dance floor. She found him attractive; she found him _sexy_; and he was certain he was no longer "brother" material. But she needed time to resolve that within herself, and he wouldn't rush it.

"Was that reckless enough for you?" he asked once they were both in their beds. He was only in his boxers and she was in her tank and shorts with a bright scarf over her head. She'd cussed a blue streak about forgetting it last night; but the high ponytail she'd had to rock that day and evening had looked nice in his opinion.

There was a streetlamp right outside their window, and it created black lines across her face. She smiled at him sweetly.

"You got some fingers on you, Memphis," she said.

"All the better to throw a football with," Sam replied with a shrug. "And the best to make you come with."

Mercedes hid her face in her arm, only her eyes visible. They glinted in the pale gray light and Sam wished they were sharing a bed…naked…sweaty…post-coital.

"I needed that nut," she said.

"I can give you more."

"With that big dick of yours?"

Said dick turned steel. "Yep."

"Now?"

"Nope."

She frowned. "Why not?"

He started stroking himself unconsciously, but didn't stop when her eyes fixated on him. He pulled back the covers so she could get an unfettered look, and her licking her bottom lip had him groaning.

"Let me?"

"Let you what?" he ground out.

"Return the favor," she said, getting out of her bed and sitting on his next to his legs. With their eyes locked, Mercedes covered her small hand over his and let him guide the strokes. She dropped hers to watch her task, but Sam remained staring at her face. She seemed fascinated and very aroused, and that made him smile a little.

"You don't, do you?" he asked.

"Don't what?"

"See me as a brother."

Her hand tightened around his, and Sam slid his from underneath hers to caress his balls. Mercedes' tongue got stuck in the corner of her mouth and her breathing deepened.

"Maybe."

"Why would you try to say that, then?"

"Only people that damn possessive over me was my daddy and my brother, so I figured that's what you were; or that's how you saw me."

"Shane wasn't possessive?"

She shook her head. "I didn't mind it, really. I got lucky; I've heard enough horror stories about jealous, possessive boyfriends—"

His hand clamped around hers and their eyes met again. "No, those are _abusive_ boyfriends," Sam clarified. "I'd never raise a harmful hand to you, Mercedes."

"I know."

"And I know Shane never did."

She laughed without humor. "Shane would be in traction_ to this day_ if he ever had," Mercedes said cockily. "Between my daddy and brother—"

"And me," Sam interrupted, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "He'd be on life support in traction after we were done."

Her smile turned soft. "See? Family."

Sam sat up and leaned forward until their lips brushed each other. He started their stroking of his cock again, and closed the space between them until his teeth closed around her full bottom lip.

"There are other family units," he said around her lip, their hands pumping his cock even faster now. "Like _husband_ and _wife_—"

"Shit—"

"But that never occurred to you?" he asked.

Mercedes didn't respond, freeing her lip from his teeth to ghost it along his cheek. She tightened her hand around him and jerked hard, and he grunted, releasing over their joined hands and the bedspread.

"Yeah."

"Fuck," he whispered, swallowing thickly. She didn't release him, didn't stop stroking him, didn't stop trailing her lips along his skin. "With me?"

"_Early_," she said. "Before I figured out that was a bad road to travel."

Sam pulled back slightly. "Why?"

"Because it was silly," she murmured against his skin. "Having a crush on the first guy who was nice to me—did that before; he turned out to be gay—"

"Kurt." Kurt Hummel was another friend of Mercedes' from high school. Sam liked him just fine except every time they met up, Kurt would try to give him a makeover to "practice" for his career as a stylist if his shot at Broadway never panned out. It was disconcerting, but Sam took it in stride, knowing that was Kurt's way of bonding and taking the piss out of him.

"Yes."

"I'm not gay."

"No; but you're not supposed to be interested in me—at least not _really_."

"Says who?"

"_Everybody_," Mercedes said on a sigh, allowing him to tangle his fingers with hers as they continued the languid caress of his cock. It was more exploratory than anything now, but Sam knew it would only be a few more minutes until he was aroused again. And since he sensed they were on the brink of a heavy conversation, he removed their hands from his dick so he could balance them on his upper thigh.

"That's silly, Mercedes."

"Not silly," she challenged. "All those girls you dated—none of them were big girls like me, and most of them were light or white girls."

"None of them were _you_," Sam said. "I wasn't going for a knockoff if I couldn't have the real thing." He lifted her hand and sucked his ejaculate from her fingers. "I didn't want a poor man's Mercedes Jones. Sorry I'm not sorry."

"Quinn isn't a poor man's anything. She's first class."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, but I wasn't interested in her lesson enough."

Mercedes caressed his full lips after he finished sucking them, keeping quiet for a few beats. "Shane wasn't you, either."

"But he was good to you."

"Yes, he was."

"You could've married him."

She inhaled deeply and looked away. "Probably. Yeah."

"Could you marry me?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and tried to free her hand from his grip, but Sam stubbornly held on. He could—hell, if Mercedes wanted _reckless_, he'd take her to the justice of the peace tomorrow and be as reckless as they could get. But then Pop Jones would punt _him_ like a football, and that was after Dwight Evans dribbled him like a soccer ball.

And he didn't want to even _think _of what their moms would do!

"It's too soon for this conversation," Mercedes finally said.

"Not to me. We know each other's good, bad, and ugly and we still love each other."

Sam stated it as fact, something that made Mercedes snap her attention to him with wide eyes and dropped jaw. He grinned, squeezing her fingers. "We don't need to be in a romantic relationship to be in love with each other."

"Who said I was in love with you?"

Sam chuckled. "You are."

She rolled her eyes and final freed her hand, going back over to her bed. She lay down with her back to him.

As if he minded the view.

When daylight arrived, Mercedes did her level best to keep her distance. Sam allowed this, knowing his bold proclamation had scared her shitless. Admittedly, it'd taken him a good hour to fall asleep himself, surprised he'd had the courage to even admit what he had, but he'd had to seize his opportunity before someone else did. He'd let too many years go by with Shane; he wasn't interested in a repeat of that at all.

He'd asked her to put on sunblock lotion before they hit the beach, smirking when, after a moment's hesitation, she complied with his request. Her soft hands had been tentative, even clinical, before she'd forgotten herself and used the sunblock application as an excuse to feel him up. He hadn't bothered to hide his erection from her, either, wanting her to know even with her just caressing his back and torso he was completely affected by her.

"Need me to return the favor?" he'd asked, his green eyes snapping electric fire.

Mercedes had grunt-grumbled a refusal and ran into the bathroom to change.

Once they'd arrived at the beach, Mercedes had parked herself in a beach chair underneath an umbrella while wearing a large floppy hat and shades. She had her Nook out and was reading—at least, that was what she'd wanted people to think. But Sam knew she'd been watching him play chicken with some of the girls in their group, football on the beach with the boys, and even befriended a nearby beachgoer's dog. Eventually, Mercedes had given up all pretenses and put down her Nook, then approached him while he still frolicked with the dog.

"Got yourself a new friend, I see," she said by way of greeting.

The dog, a chocolate lab pup, bounded over to her and placed her paws on Mercedes' knees, barking her own hello. Mercedes cooed and gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears before her owner called her away. Sam watched Mercedes gaze after the dog and they both waved at the owner, laughing when owner and dog raced to the ocean. Sam looked back at Mercedes, who still stared after the dog.

"Walk with me?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Any and everywhere," he replied.

She did turn to him then, a shy smile on her face, and began walking.

Sam kept his hands to himself, though he had to hold them behind his back to resist temptation. Mercedes was wearing a green, '50s-style halter swimsuit with a hot pink sarong that only covered her hips. She stared at her feet or far out ahead of her, either missing or ignoring the appreciative glances being thrown her way. Sam made sure to walk close enough that everyone knew he was with her, but not enough to crowd her. He knew she was gathering her thoughts and he wouldn't pressure her about that.

"Merce?"

She glanced at him, then adjusted course so they were out of the beach crowd and near the street. She then rested her hands on his hips, right along the band of his swim trunks. She peered at him, he feeling it despite her shades obstructing his view of her eyes, and he gently covered her hands with his own.

"Let's have a date tonight. Just us," she said softly, her voice almost lost in the din of excited shouts and waves.

He nodded. "I can do that."

She slipped her fingers underneath the band but didn't go further south, as if bracing herself. Sam caressed her from her wrists to her elbows in soothing sweeps, and Mercedes sighed, resting her forehead against his chest.

"This is freaking me out."

"Yeah?"

"I'm convinced this is a dream."

"You dream about me?"

"Shut up, Sam."

He laughed and hugged her completely to him, relaxing as she sighed and snuggled against his frame. Her hands slid to his butt, but only remained on the upper slope of it, but Sam wasn't shy about palming her ass completely.

Mercedes snickered and pulled back. "Really?"

"Really, really," he whispered, kissing her nose. "I like _all_ this junk in your trunk."

She snorted and cackled at that, moving her hands down to squeeze his ass fully before yanking her hands out his trunks and heading back to their space. He did manage to get her in the water, but he was very careful not to get her hair wet, knowing she'd use his balls as baubles if he did.

Especially since they had a date that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had convinced Mercedes to stay at the beach a bit longer while he'd all but frog marched Carlos by the ear off the sands. He rolled his eyes as his friend cussed him out in Spanish and Samoan of all things, before returning to English. Sam just grinned through it all, "throwing" Carlos into the condo once they reached it.

"_Gringo_, start talkin' _y ahora_!" Carlos demanded, adjusting the tank that'd gone helter-skelter on his shoulders after the toss.

"Mercedes agreed on a date," Sam said, his smile growing wide and blinding. "I need your car and the nearest grocery store."

Carlos's eyes widened. "You're _cookin'_?"

"She likes my cooking!"

"You've cooked for her before?"

"Well, yeah; I've gone to her house before and we'd cook together. Her mom loves my fried chicken."

"Is that racist, or—?"

Sam thumped him on the side of his head. "Shut up, ass!—I'm thinking of grilling some tuna steaks with frites and a bed of baby spinach drizzled with raspberry vinaigrette and chocolate mousse for dessert—"

"_Her_ 'chocolate mousse' or—?"

This time it was a headlock, and the two friends tussled until they both collapsed winded on the futon.

"It's amazing how out of shape we get the minute the season's over," Carlos said on pants.

Sam swallowed a large gulp of air. "Naw, heat exhaustion; we'd been on the beach all day."

"I like you," Carlos said with a lazy finger point. "Make me feel better about my sloth-like ways."

They eventually got their act together enough to hit the local market and get all the items they'd need for the dinner. Because everything was either quick to make or already pre-prepared, the prep time for the meal wouldn't take long. Sam had even bought a merlot for the occasion along with a taper for a candlelight setting.

"I texted everyone ahead of time so we could make a quick change and head out," Carlos said, doing salsa steps to the radio station that played while watching Sam marinate the tuna steaks. Both had already showered and changed for the evening, and Carlos was pregaming with a bottle of Kahlúa. The blond grinned at his friend, holding out a fist for Carlos to bump.

"Thanks, man."

Carlos did a spin and shimmied his hips as if he were on _Dancing with the Stars_."No, I like Mercedes. She's sweet and sassy and _bangin'_. That's street cred, you know, able to pull a woman like her."

Sam laughed likely and shook his head. "It ain't like that."

"I know," Carlos said, his tone turning serious, and set down his liquor. "She's a long-haul lady, which is good, because you've always been a long-haul dude. But that's in your DNA."

Sam's smile softened. Dwight and Mary Evans had married the day after they'd graduated from college and had been together ever since, withstanding the ups and downs of life together. And Mercedes' parents had been high school sweethearts, so Sam supposed Carlos was right.

"You gave me endless shit for it," Sam said after a moment.

"I didn't see the point," Carlos said, not feeling sorry in the slightest, twirling again and wiggling his fingers to Sam as if asking him to join in while taking a swig of his Kahlúa. "But then I met 'Cedes, and point, seen, man."

Sam raised an eyebrow and ignored the invitation, setting the marinating tuna steaks in the fridge. "Why does this feel like you're campaigning to be my best man?"

Carlos slapped Sam's shoulder and squeezed. "Just…putting it in the universe…"

He started dancing again, and this time Sam did a body roll that had them both burst into laughter. Right then the door opened with their housemates dancing, music for the street trebling the music in the kitchen. This was what Sam loved about Miami—endless music and party everywhere. Mercedes came spinning inside courtesy of one of the guys and was dipped, the guy's hand way too high on such ample flesh. Sam immediately stopped dancing and his smile disappeared, Carlos slapping him hard across the chest and shaking his head.

"Down!"

"Last time I checked, salsa didn't include tryna cop a feel up someone's swimsuit!"

"First of all, 'Cedes has nice gams—dude's not dead, damn!" Carlos defended, "and second of all, his girlfriend is _right there _eggin' them on so calm your dick down, dude! You ain't put a ring on it yet," Carlos reminded Sam, sashaying toward Mercedes to relieve his friend of the decadent diva.

Carlos took over partnering duties and Sam's best friends swung each other around with sassy sways of their hips. Carlos was clearly the superior dancer, but Sam's eyes couldn't stray away from Mercedes. She was built for the salsa, her hips and ass swaying to and fro to the seductive rhythm like a visual siren's song. Sam couldn't ignore the call, and stalked towards the pair until he was flush against her back and miming her movements.

"Yeah, you ain't look that good when we took salsa lessons last year, _gringo_," Carlos said with a small scowl, but grinned down at a giggling Mercedes.

"Didn't have the right partner," Sam breathed in Mercedes' ear, spinning her out and reeling her back in so that barely any space was between them. Mercedes' eyes widened briefly, then she smirked, rolling her hips against his and chuckling when Carlos came behind her and stole her from Sam.

"This is like that movie _Dance with Me_!" Mercedes said on a squeal, being passed to another housemate and wiggling her hips with the ladies. Sam didn't know what movie she was talking about, but he already hated it.

"Can one of y'all dance her into the room? We got a date tonight!" Sam called over the music, unsuccessful at keeping the irritation out of his tone.

They both got a ribbing for that, but the girls all went into his and Mercedes' room and shut the door with a definitive click.

It felt like hours had passed before that door opened again, but it'd actually been less than thirty minutes. Sam had gotten many pep talks from the housemates as he and Carlos set the table for the date, all of them sounding like older siblings on behalf of Mercedes even though they'd all just met each other days before. Sam took it all in stride, a bit of pride in his chest that Mercedes had engendered such regard in them.

"You'll be fine, dude," Carlos said once the housemates were ready to leave. The steaks were now grilling in the oven and Mercedes still hadn't shown herself. "And if all goes right, I'll be walkin' back in here at ass-crack a.m. to the sound of rhythmic thumpin', moanin', and groanin'!"

"Ass," Sam said, but he couldn't help his puff of laughter. "She's not like that."

Carlos pulled a face and snorted. "While she ain't a 'hit-it-and-quit-it' girl, she's down for some _lovin'_, by, y'know, someone who actually _loves her_."

Sam took a deep breath and shrugged. "We might not get there."

"I'm chokin' on the pheromones between you two; it's inevitable."

"The sex?"

This time Carlos smirked and clapped Sam's shoulder. "The _everything_."

Incidentally, the pronouncement only made Sam nervous, and he jumped when Carlos closed the door behind him and the group. Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath, his bare toes curling against the plush red carpet beneath them. After another deep breath, Sam went to the door of their shared room and knocked.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

Her voice sounded so small and his heart clenched. "Vixen, we don't have to do this—"

"If for nothin' else that I'm _hungry_, we're going on this date tonight," Mercedes said. "But, are we ready for this change?"

Sam smiled a little and leaned against the door. "Don't think of it as a _change_ per se; think of it as an _enhancement_."

"Because you might get to see me nekkid?"

Sam laughed at that. "I don't know if there's a good answer to that."

"Sam!" she cried, but he heard laughter as well.

"You'll get to see _me_ nekkid—you already have!"

"_Hmm_…"

The noncommittal sound had Sam's smile fading. "Vixen?"

"Sex is usually the final frontier in a relationship, Sammy."

Sam ignored the gooey feeling he'd always get whenever she called him that for the anxiousness in her tone. "Were you this nervous with Shane?"

"No," Mercedes said immediately. "But you know that—you were the first person who heard the play-by-play."

Yeah, he was, and he'd remember the wonder in her eyes, the small, fond grin on her face, the way she'd worried the hem of her shirt in her hands as she'd recounted the story with her head on his upper arm and stared into the distance. It'd been a good first time for her, and he'd barely contained the envy that her first time hadn't been with him. Only fair, though, right?, since his first time hadn't been with her, either. But in this case—first wasn't the place that mattered, and he'd do well to remember that.

"We don't have to do anything tonight but share a meal."

"We've shared more than that these past few nights, Sam."

"I've enjoyed sharing them with you, Mercedes; and I won't lie and say I don't hope we share more, but it _doesn't_ have to be tonight."

"Go check on whatever's in the oven, Sammy. I'll be out in a second."

Sam didn't want to go, placing his hand on the door as if to give her more strength, but he did smell those tuna steaks so he knew they were ready if not nearly there. To calm down his own growing trepidation, Sam spent much time on the presentation of the plates then turned the radio's dial until he found a light jazz station. He'd just uncorked the wine when he heard the door open and close behind him.

"I hope it's okay I'm not wearing shoes…didn't really see the point…"

Sam tensed briefly then turned, his jaw promptly dropping at the realization this dinner would be a gross waste of time. The royal purple strapless dress was amazing on her, the sweetheart neckline presenting her cleavage like the crown jewels they were. The skirt flared with its hem dancing just above her knees, and her earth-toned skin gleamed with health. Her hair was in a messy bun at the nape of her neck with minimal makeup and simple studs in her ears, but the shy glances she gave made Sam want to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

"My, don't you look handsome," she said on a grin.

Sam gave a half smile, feeling his cheeks turning red, and rubbed the nape of his neck. He was still barefoot himself wearing black slacks and a slate-gray, button-down shirt with the first few buttons free. Mercedes approached him carefully, as if unsure, but then she reached out and cupped his face in her hands. Her small, thick fingers were cool upon his face, the lingering scent of the perfume she'd sprayed still clinging to them. He closed his eyes and inhaled, fully taking in all of the sensations he gave her.

"This shouldn't be weird," she declared, her thumb drifting over his cheekbone. "Sammy, this shouldn't be _weird_."

"It is different, though," he replied, opening his eyes to look at her. She was nibbling on her bottom lip, her brows quirking, and he gave into impulse and took that bottom lip between his teeth gently. She sighed and pressed closer to him, turning the nibble into a sweet kiss of promise. Sam settled his hands from the fists at his sides to her hips, opening her mouth with his so their tongues could greet. Mercedes tensed and moaned at the same time, but Sam intentionally kept everything light.

Dinner was getting cold.

"All right?" he asked, pulling back slightly but making sure their lips brushed.

"Damn, you can kiss."

"You too. Got a mouth made for my kisses, Vixen."

Mercedes giggled, pecking his lips once more before drawing away. "What can I do to help?"

"Sit down and look as gorgeous as you are," he answered, pulling out her chair for her to sit.

Sam became server, chef, and date all in one, to Mercedes' apparent delight. After the initial awkward beginning, they fell into a comfortable dynamic, Mercedes gushing about how alive and bright Miami was and already talking about plans for next year. She really liked Carlos, said he reminded her of her friend Puck from high school—all talk but with the softest bite imaginable. Sam could admit that while he liked Puck well enough, he'd never been thrilled about his relationship with Mercedes—and neither had Shane for that matter. Puck had always been a little too free with his hands whenever he'd come to visit Mercedes, but dude was very talented with a guitar and had a head for business.

"You know he wants to be your manager, right?" Sam asked. "For when you become a superstar artist."

Mercedes chuckled and rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to be a teacher."

"Why?"

"I don't 'look the part'," Mercedes said, rolling her eyes again. "At least not for pop, and that's where the money is."

"What, you mean completely stunning and sexy? Mercedes, I don't know if you notice, but men have been panting after you from the moment you stepped foot in this city. _Futhermore_, if Jilly from Philly can make it work, so can you."

She arched an eyebrow at him and chuckled. "First of all, Jill Scott isn't pop; second of all, I don't know how I feel about you saying Jilly from Philly…"

"It's your fault you turned me onto her."

"When did I do that?"

"You sing her often, Vixen. Especially when you were with Shane…" He tried not to let his saltiness about that slip through his tone, but her knowing look said he failed.

Mercedes shrugged coyly. "He knew how to put it down. And you'd sing after a fun night, too, Mr. Lonestar."

Sam grinned. "One of Those Nights" _was_ his go-to anthem after nocturnal recreational activities; but Mercedes singing Jill Scott's "Whatever" would make _him_ want to "climb up walls".

"I want to make you sing tonight," Sam said quietly over his glass of merlot.

Mercedes choked on the spinach she'd just put in her mouth but she recovered quickly. She swallowed hard, her eyes wide. "You didn't bring your guitar."

"I can _strum_ something else," he replied, now grinning.

She sat back in the seat, her hands clenching and unclenching above her plate. "Damn, just like that?"

He nodded. "I know I said we didn't have to have sex tonight, and I mean it; but I want to make you sing…_for me_…"

Mercedes placed her hands in her lap and stared at her plate. She'd eaten most of her food, and they still had dessert waiting, but he wasn't hungry for _that_ chocolate mousse right then.

_Fucking Carlos…_

"What would you like me to sing?" she asked quietly, peering at him through her lashes.

"If you sing Jilly from Philly, I know I did good."

Mercedes burst out laughing at that, covering her mouth and shaking her head. "Probably not 'Whatever', huh?"

Sam shrugged. "That's a good starting point, but I'm not telling you what Jill Scott song I want you to sing."

"Why not?"

"Because that's cheatin', and I wanna earn it," Sam said, now drinking his water.

"You've actually thought about this, haven't you?"

"Yep."

"Now I feel bad; I don't know what Lonestar song I want you to sing."

"_I'll_ definitely sing 'One of Those Nights' to start," he said with a wink.

"More than fair enough," Mercedes agreed on a laugh; then after a beat, she stood and approached him, barely leaning down by the waist to kiss his forehead. They both sighed at the contact, Sam's hands settling on her outer thigh to bring her closer.

"All singers need warm ups, though," she whispered against his temple, then kissed it softly. "Got a song you want me to sing?"

"Gotta be your song, boo," Sam said, catching the flesh at her jaw gently with his teeth.

"Okay," she said sweetly, brushing her nose against his and straightening again. "Give me a sec?"

He nodded, curious as to what she was about to do, but he frowned when he went into their room and shut the door behind her.

Sam sat there for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip as his long fingers tapped a rhythm against his thighs; but after five minutes passed, he sighed and decided to clear their plates and serve the dessert. After he'd done the two tasks, Mercedes still hadn't appeared; so instead of worrying about worst-case scenarios, he decided to get a jump on washing the dishes.

Music started to play, an instrumental track, and Sam grinned, especially when her soft curves pressed against his back.

"_They say I'm crazy…the way you got me open, baby, ooh…_"

Sam recognized the tune off the bat, his grin transforming into a full, wide smile. It was one of his favorite tracks from Jilly's debut album, and "It's Love" was actually a perfect choice for Mercedes. She'd basically said as much last night and earlier that day on the beach, so of course she'd sing it now.

And that it was a funky tune, too, that had Sam shaking his hips along with her as she sang to the instrumental. When he chimed in with backing _ooh_s, Mercedes broke off the melody and started cracking up, which only made Sam _ooh_ louder and far more off key than necessary. His _oohs_ transformed into moans, though, when she began unbuttoning his shirt even as she still stood behind him, and she ground her hips into his ass in time to the music.

Sam kept his discipline until all the dishes they'd used thus far were clean; and by this point, he was shirtless and pants-less, standing only in his boxers. He spun around then, catching Mercedes to him by the waist, his hands still damp from washing the dishes. Mercedes was still swinging and grooving in his arms, but her grin was cute, adorable.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he said with a pout.

"_Love, love, love, love, love, love_," she sang, walking backwards with his hands in hers. She sat him down in his chair and took his spoon for his mousse and filled it with the confection.

"_Do you want it on your collard greens? Do you want it in your candy sweets?_"

Mercedes straddled his lap and fed him the chocolate as she continued singing and jamming to the B-section of the song, which had gotten even funkier than the A section. Sam bobbed his head as he accepted every bite, his hand sliding up and down her thighs underneath the dress she still wore.

"Off," he mumbled around the spoon after his latest bite. He pulled her into his chest and grasped the zipper of her dress. Mercedes merely grinned, not stopping her singing and dancing or his disrobing, and dipped her fingers in her own mousse to trail along his neck and clavicle.

"_Do you want it on your black-eyed peas? Feed it to me, feed it to me, feed it—_"

She licked her mousse off him and he growled, jerking so hard on her dress a ripping sound rent the air. Mercedes snapped up and gasped, breaking off her singing and glaring wide-eyed at him, some mousse lingering on her lips and chin.

"Fuck the dress, Merce," he grunted against her mouth, licking the rest of the sweet from her. "I'll buy you another—"

"_Do you want it in your candy sweets? Do you want it, do you want it/Gimme it, gimme it—_"

He stood with her still in arms, placing his martini glass still filled with chocolate mousse to the opposite end of the table next to hers, so he could lay Mercedes down upon it. Mercedes giggled and still wiggled sang to the track that was playing, and he smiled at her joy. She was now just in a purple strapless bra and boyshorts set. It was actually just cotton with little frills but Sam didn't remember ever seeing anything so sexy. His cock played peek-a-boo with the slit of his boxers, and he stroked it while he caressed her body.

"We're gonna break some dishes up in here," Mercedes warned, glancing at the martini glasses. "And maybe the table too—you got the money to pay for damages?"

Sam shook his head and kissed her, picking her up again and grabbing the two martini glasses with one large hand. Mercedes squealed and giggled again, burying her mouth underneath his left ear as he walked them back into their room, shutting the door with his foot.

"_Gimme that love, gimme that love, gimme/Give it to me, give it to me, give it…_"

He kissed her hard, his tongue surging into her mouth. There was no more singing now, and Sam vaguely registered the track restarting again, though it was much louder now since Mercedes' mp3 player and speakers were in the room with them. But he barely paid attention to that, instead focused on Mercedes' whimpers and sighs and groans as he slipped off her bra and panties, leaving her naked below him.

He muttered a prayer, wondering how he'd become so blessed to have her in his life. She was glorious, thick, woman. Her breasts sagged slightly from their weight, but the nipples were large with distended peaks. There were stretch marks along her stomach and thighs, and he couldn't wait to traverse each and every one with his fingers, lips, and tongue. The hair upon her mound was already soaked with her juices, and Sam knew more than anything _that_ was the mousse he really wanted to eat.

"Sam?"

The diva and sass that'd been her in her voice while in the kitchen was suddenly absent, and she regarded him with uncertain eyes. Instead of responding verbally, Sam pecked her mouth, cupping her cheek with one hand and shoving off his boxers with the other.

"I'll give it to you, Mercedes Jones," Sam vowed lowly against her mouth, his free hand now slipping between her thighs and sinking into her soft, slick heat. "My body, my love, my last name, my seed—_everything_—"

"Sam—!"

Her choked gasp of his name had his cock weeping with pre-ejaculate, but his focus didn't stray from her, from noticing the tears that were gathering in her eyes or the tremble upon her lips. He kissed them both tenderly, keeping his lips against hers as his fingers thrust deeper into her cloying channel.

"Do you believe me, boo? Do you believe what I'm sayin' to you? This ain't a game for me. This ain't a hit it and quit it. I can never quit you—don't wanna. Once we do this it's done; no goin' back. You ready, Mercedes?"

"Sammy—"

"No goin' back to that campus as if we're brand new to each other; no goin' back to Shane or to some other asshole who thinks he can take you away from me. You're _mine_, Mercedes Jones. When I give it to you, it's a _wrap_."

"Oh, _fuck_!"

The expletive burst from Mercedes' mouth like a nuclear explosion, making Sam's dick weep even more. Shaky hands covered her eyes and she shook her head as if overwhelmed. Perhaps it was unfair to drop just how heart-attack serious about this evolution in their relationship right when she was sexually primed and ready to go, but he refused to be a spring break fling for her. If she wanted life-lessons to pass on to _her_ future children, she needed to know he had every intention for them to be _his_ too.

"Mercedes?" he asked softly, still thrusting his fingers inside of her. Her hips moved in time to them, her breaths shaky and soft from her.

Mercedes removed her hand from her face, her tears now visible and silently streaming down her cheeks, but she gave him a wobbly smile before pressing her lips against his.

"Roll over," she murmured.

"What?"

She sighed, pulling her hips back so his fingers slipped out of her, and pushed him back until he was lying on the bed and she hovered over him. She then dropped the full weight of her on him and held his hands high over his head, undulating her crotch against his cock in a way that had it straining for her "land of milk and honey".

"Samson Evans, did you just hold your dick for ransom so I could say _yes_ to a _marriage proposal_?"


	4. Chapter 4

Well, when Mercedes put it like that, Sam couldn't fault her for thinking so, but he was relieved she looked more amused than anything. A half smile formed on his face, and he slid his hands up her torso and along her back, letting his fingers slide among the planes, dips, and rolls there. She was so plush he almost couldn't stand it.

"Are you sayin' yes?" he asked coyly.

"Sam Evans!"

He laughed lightly, nipping her chin with his teeth. "I'm holdin' my dick ransom, as you say, so you don't think I'mma let you get back to CSU you and treat me as if I'm just your _boy_ and not your _man_."

"Sam—"

"You're real good at talkin' yourself out of your happy ending, Mercedes Jones; I'm holdin' you accountable against that," he said firmly, dragging his hands down her body until they cupped her ass. He spread her legs and the wet slickness of her slid over his cock. Both of them hissed and Mercedes whined, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she threw it back.

"I'm tryna _get_ my happy endin' and you won't _give it to me_."

"Yeah, I will; you just need to accept _everything_ that happy ending entails."

Mercedes glared at him, shifting her hips slightly so the tip of him teased her opening. "You wanna go from thrusters to warp factor 10 just so we can _bang_?"

"Oh, I wanna _thrust_ all right," Sam said, grinning widely as he mimicked the action. "And you know you're meant to be my wife that you're using _Star Trek_ terminology as bedroom talk."

Even as she laughed, Mercedes shook her head and sat up, hiding her face in her hands. Sam moved his languid caresses from her booty to her sides and belly, already imagining how she'd look swollen with their baby. Mercedes might think they were going to fast; but he'd already been at warp for longer than he'd been willing to admit. He'd never imagined any of his other partners in such a state, just Mercedes.

Sam sat up also, cradling her against him as he pulled her hands from her face. They stared at each other for a moment, and then she looked away, Sam tracing her cheek with his thumb.

"What's freakin' you out, boo?"

"The fact I'm not nearly as freaked out as I should be," she admitted.

"That's not what you said earlier."

"Yeah, it is; I'm just clarifying it now."

"Oh," Sam mouthed, and then grinned lopsidedly. "You _have_ dreamed about me. About this."

"I'm a hussy," Mercedes mumbled and pouted. "I'd compare you to Shane—ain't that shitty of me?"

He kissed her slowly. "I did that all the time, even with Quinn." He smoothed a hand along her head. "I think God led me to CSU for you."

For a moment, complete stillness settled between them.

"Shit-motherfuckin'-_damn_, Samson!" Mercedes exclaimed, repeatedly shoving his shoulder with more force than he'd anticipated, but not enough to make him let go of her. "You're an asshole!"

"I thought that was sweet of me to say!" he said, an affronted expression on his face.

"It _was_! Dammit! How did this happen? How did we end up _here_ like _this_?"

"Inevitable," Sam said with a shrug. "I'm not gonna fight it or question it, just thank the Lord for it. How about you?"

"Look at you, bringin' the Lord into this," Mercedes tried to tease, but Sam saw right through her bluster.

"He's already here, in you," he replied seriously, placing his hand above her heart. "You're a blessin', Mercedes."

Mercedes hung her head and clutched at the hand resting on her chest. Sam allowed his words to sink in, wondering how such playfulness between them had turned to grave. Even the funky instrumental still looping in the background couldn't muffle the heavy silence between them.

Mercedes began shaking her head again, and she kissed the back of his hand.

"I knew I was in love with you during Columbus Day weekend our freshman year, and you helped me drive to Lima and make dinner for my parents with your little brother and sister on speakerphone because it was Stacy's birthday and you'd wanted to include me. Remember that?"

Sam ginned and drifted his thumb along her lips. "I remember. I also remember meeting your friends the next day and Tina declaring she'd be the Asian Barbie to my Ken." It hadn't mattered to Tina Cohen-Chang she was in a happy, yet long-distance relationship with her boyfriend Mike, who'd been a freshman at a performing-arts college out of state. "And did you know Artie gave me a 'stern talking to'?" Sam laughed. "At the time it wasn't funny, though; he'd kept rolling over my foot with his wheelchair to emphasize his point."

Mercedes laughed as well, pulling his head down so she could kiss him. "Artie's sworn he would marry me one day. But he _really _swears I'm his musical soul mate. We always sang together in my chorus in high school."

Sam said nothing about bursting that particular bubble of Artie's, instead focusing on the shape and taste of Mercedes' mouth with his tongue. Hints of chocolate mousse lingered, and he blindly reached behind him with a hand until his fingertips brushed against the lip of one of the martini glass. His fingers found the dessert, and he scooped up a substantial bit of it to slip into Mercedes' mouth. She hummed around his fingers.

"Lie back, baby," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth.

"I like holding you, though," she whispered in reply. "I love the feel of you against me."

His strong arms held her tighter in response, feeling her soft breasts and belly smoosh against his chest and her slickness glide along his cock. He wanted to be inside her so badly, sans condom at that, but that would be inappropriate and fucking presumptuous. But she was _right there_, pulsing and willing, and his dick twitched for her.

"I wanna love you without a condom," he confessed.

"I wanna let you," she revealed. "But I'm not."

Sam nodded, kissing her upturned nose. "I know. Just thought I let you _further know_ how deep this is for me."

"Acknowledged. So, can you be _deep inside me_ now?"

Smirking, Sam dipped his fingers back into the mousse and streaked them between her breasts. He eventually won out on his earlier demand, rolling her back onto the bed with him hovering above her as he licked the mousse from her body.

It was _delicious_.

He decorated her entire body with the mousse and spent a grand time licking it off her, paying special homage to her own chocolate peaks atop her breasts and her pink berry above her slit. The taste of the mousse with her juices had his mouth watering obscenely, his slurps and her squishiness overpowering the music that still played. Her thighs shook violently with her pre-orgasm, signaling that she was more than ready for the next level.

"You _bitch_!" Mercedes snarled, her voice gruff with her denied orgasm. Sam merely smirked and fed her his soaked fingers while reaching into the nightstand for condoms. She pushed out his fingers with her tongue and glared at him accusingly. "_Really_?"

Sam shrugged. "I'd hoped…" He laughed a little, tearing open the package with his teeth. "I put them in this afternoon during the grocery run."

"You didn't come with condoms?"

He rolled the condom onto his cock. "Outside of the emergency one I always have in my wallet? No."

She propped herself up on her elbows. "Why not?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "I wasn't gonna disrespect you like that, Mercedes."

She frowned at him even as she opened her legs so he could settle between them. "I wouldn't have thought—"

"I would've," he said quietly, cupping her cheek. "Something told me this would be a turning point in our relationship—a _breaking point_. I might've done the tag-teaming thing with Carlos the other night, but it was part habit, part bein' a coward."

Mercedes brushed his fringe from his forehead and gently bucked against him. "Are you afraid now?"

"Terrified wouldn't even _begin_ to describe it," he said in a breathless laugh.

"Agreed!" she concurred on a much stronger chuckle. "But I'm with you."

"Yeah?" he asked, placing the tip of his cock against her opening. Already she flowered over him and he moaned softly.

"Getting everything you want but thought you'd never have—that's overwhelming, ain't it?" she asked brokenly, pumping her hips to help ease his entry. Her face scrunched up and he settled one hand on her waist.

"I'm big and you're tight as _fuck_," Sam explained, taking a gulping breath. "Let me do this. Let me take care of you."

"But in the movies, there's all this build up and set up and this should feel fast—_warp factor_—and it does! But it also feels _right_. I did everything right with Shane but it didn't feel like _this_!"

She was babbling, and Sam thought it was adorable, not even minding the mention of Shane because Shane was a _non-motherfuckin'-factor_ right now as her walls clung to his sheathed cock. Before he realized it, he was buried to the hilt inside of her and Mercedes sighed long and low, her eyes drifting closed.

"Fuck yes," she whispered.

"Home sweet home," he replied, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

She was soft and hot and wet and _throbbing_ around him, and he was so overcome with emotion all he could do was remain still and breathe in her scent, relish in the thrum of her pulse against his lips. Her hands found his, interlocking their fingers, and Sam squeezed, understanding she needed an anchor to his moment just as he did. Being inside her _was _home, one for which he'd been yearning since understanding what his parents had was something he wanted as well.

"I love you, Samson."

He blew out a breath, cursing mentally at himself for the tears that began pricking his eyes. Fuck him—he wasn't a crier by any stretch, and it wasn't as if he hadn't heard those words from Mercedes before; but the added layer and new dimension to her declaration was profoundly fundamental to the man he strived to be. It was weighted with the responsibility of cherishing her love for him, never taking it for granted; and while he might be twenty-one years old and, in many opinions, too young and immature to handle it, nothing wouldn't deter him from taking up the mantle.

"_I knew it_…"

Mercedes burst out laughing, her body shaking underneath him with her mirth and she unlaced one of their hands to muffle her joy. Sam braced himself above her and beamed, pulling her hand away from her smile.

"You sound so damn smug," she said amid lingering giggles, particularly when he nipped the tips of her fingers.

"I'm smumble," Sam said, his grin softening.

"Say what now?"

"_Smumble_—smug and humble," he said, kissing her gently and began to thrust. "You know I love you."

She nodded framing his face in her hands, her hips rocking counter to his. "I do."

He thrust into her deeply, making sure his stomach and chest slid against hers. His entire focus was on her eyes, watching them widen, darken, cloud, or spark with every press into her pussy. Her hands slid into his hair, her blunt nails dragging against his scalp. He gasped and grunted, smelling their combined scents and the chocolate that had permeated their skin.

"_Jesus_," Mercedes hissed, pulling his hair and biting her bottom lip as she arched into his movements. "_Fuck_, Sammy, _damn_. _Dear God_—"

Her breath caught as he thrust hard into her, jarring her head against the pillowed headboard, and bit her upper lip. She was slick everywhere, making his hands glide against her skin as they mapped her from shoulders to knees. He panted, his breath fanning her hair though some tendril were plastered against her cheek.

"_Every time our eyes meet/This feeling inside me/Is almost more than I can take…_"

Mercedes turned her head to him, her bottom lip trembling as she grinned shyly at him. He smiled also, but his features turned intense again, everything drowning out but his song and her response to it.

"_Baby when you touch me/I can feel how much you love me/And it just blows me away…_"

His eyes widened and his rhythm fell off, damn surprised Mercedes even knew Lonestar, even if he were singing the song that'd put them on the map. "Amazed", as corny and overplayed of a country song some people probably thought it was, reflected everything Sam felt right then; and apparently, Mercedes too.

"You're bitin' my song, boo," finding his stroke again, slowing it down even more so she could feel every bit of him inside of her.

"Well, I have to admit that's the only one of theirs I know," she said, pulling his head down so their noses met, her hand clutching his hair. "But I am, Sammy. You amaze me, baby."

"_The smell of your skin/The taste of your kiss/The way you whisper in the dark/You touch every place in my heart…"_

Sam had skipped some lyrics, but Mercedes didn't seem to mind, harmonizing with him on hums and moans. That his song didn't go at all with the mp3 playing didn't faze them, either, both too wrapped up in the music they were creating together right then.

"_I don't know how you do what you do/I'm so in love with you/It just keeps getting better…_"

Sam felt her tighten around his cock and he moaned low, ceasing his singing for that moment as her nether walls squeezed him. Mercedes rose up slightly and clamped her teeth on his shoulder above his clavicle, panting as she began to tremble with her oncoming orgasm. Sam desperately wanted to make her fly, placed his lips near her ear and continued to sing.

"_I wanna spend the rest of my life/With you by my side/Forever and ever…_"

"Sammy—!" Mercedes replied on a sob, holding him even closer to her while kissing the bite mark she'd left. "Baby, I'm close—"

"C'mon, darlin'," Sam encouraged, drifting his nose against hers. "I'm right here, Mercedes." He kissed her softly and sweetly, bracing his forearms on either side of her head as he gave her the deepest thrust he had all night. "_Every little thing that you do/Baby I'm amazed by you…_"

She let out a guttural cry and shook violently underneath him, a gush of wetness flooding his cock and the sheets below them. Her release triggered his, and he groaned loudly in her ear, thrusting hard into her one last time.

As he exhaled, Sam relaxed his body completely atop hers, tremors still coursing through his body from the force of his climax. He'd never had that experience before, and stars still danced behind his eyelids. Mercedes stroked his sweaty back and sighed softly as well, her hand soft, gentle, and soothing.

"You're heavy," she stated, her voice deep and husky.

"Oh, sorry—let me—"

"Stay," she whispered, looking at him then, and she smiled a little. "You feel good."

"Do you want me to pull out?"

She sighed again and shook her head. "No. You feel good."

Sam brushed tendrils of hair from her forehead and kissed the revealed skin. "So do you."

Her eyes fell closed and she didn't open them when he pulled away. He took in her features, glad Mercedes had only turned on the lamp on their nightstand instead of the large overhead light earlier. She looked relaxed and serene, her full lips swollen from their kisses, and even the beginnings of hickeys along her jaw and neck. He smirked at those even as his mouth drifted along the bruises he'd caused.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, babe?" he replied, still kissing her lightly.

"I gotta go to the bathroom."

Sam snickered in her ear, then laughed outright when she popped him on his ass.

"All right," he said, dropping a kiss to her mouth before, reluctantly, disengaging from her body, careful to keep the condom on so he could dispose of it properly. Mercedes glanced at him shyly and rushed out of the bed, as if unwilling to give him the chance to see all of her unfettered glory, but Sam merely shrugged, tying up and throwing away the condom. She wasn't in the bathroom long, but she did come back out with a robe over her nude form, yawning as she turned off her mp3 player so the room was completely silent and still. They then looked at each other, and Sam smiled at her.

"You look properly fucked, Miz Jones."

Mercedes laughed, running her fingers through her tousled hair. "I'mma look a hot mess in the daylight…"

"You'll look hot, and you'll be messy 'cause I'mma make you come with my mouth."

Mercedes let out a cackle and shook her head, approaching the bed where Sam now sat on the edge of it. His cock was hardening, pointing upwards toward his belly button, and she stared at it with a slack-jawed expression.

"You're so beautiful," she murmured.

"You're makin' me blush," Sam said, grasping her hand to bring her between his legs. "I ain't got nothin' on you, though."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and burrowed his head into the opening of her robe, finding a breast and sweetly kissing the skin next to the areola. Mercedes sighed, her fingers coming through his hair, as he moved the robe away completely to latch onto her nipple.

"Shit, Sam—"

He gave a hard suck, then buried his face into her cleavage, undoing the belt of her robe and pushing it off her body completely. Sam felt the tremors of her body again and murmured intelligibly against her skin, his hands making soothing sweeps along her form. Mercedes pulled his head out of her chest and kissed him tenderly, making him moan.

"Vixen—"

"Yeah, baby," she replied, her mouth now at his Adam's apple and moving lower down his sternum. She then teased his nipples with her teeth and tongue, making his dick twitch against her soft belly. He gripped her elbows then released them in favor of the bedding, and he felt her smile against his left pectoral.

"Teasin' me," he said on a groan.

"Oh, no, honey, I'mma do you right," she vowed, sinking to her knees between his while sliding her mouth down his abs. Her tongue dipped into his navel even as her left hand reached for a martini glass and coated her fingers with the mousse still in them. She then looked up at him, biting her bottom lip coyly, before wrapping her mousse-covered hand around his cock.

"_Fuck_—"

"_Mmm_..."

Moments later, the hot cavern of her mouth covered the head of his penis. Sam's hand immediately went to her head, clutching her hair in an effort not to shove her mouth all the way down his length. He breathed harshly through his nostrils as her tongue teased the opening of his cock and her hands stroked him firmly.

"You're beautiful," she whispered again, her lips teasing the sensitive head. She looked at him through her lashes and grinned shyly. "All of you. First time I saw you my jaw dropped."

His laugh was gruff. "I remember. I thought I had something embarrassing showing…"

Mercedes chuckled and licked a prominent vein. "Nothing embarrassing about bein' gorgeous, boo."

Sam began thrusting in time with her suction, his fingers massaging her scalp as her mouth loved him. She gathered mousse on her fingers again; but he almost passed out when she spread it into her cleavage before gathering her breasts around his cock. She pumped him while she sucked him, and Sam collapsed on the bed, mind dizzy and hazy from pleasure. If only she knew how many times he'd masturbated to this particular fantasy, although chocolate mousse was a new and improved addition to it. She felt _amazing_; and between the feel of her soft breasts and her hot, wet mouth, his balls tightened with his impending release.

"Babe—"

"Yeah, c'mon, Sammy, _c'mon_," she persuaded, sinking her mouth over him as far as she could.

"Merce—_Mercy_—I can't—!"

He exploded in her mouth, and she wouldn't let go until she'd wrung every drop from him. Even after he finished his dick continued twitching, Mercedes now licking off all traces of the mousse from his cock and balls.

"So damn _tasty_, Sammy," she cooed, and Sam could only imagine the siren smirk she wore.

"Come up here," he demanded, wishing he had the energy to grab her himself, but he was boneless and completely spent.

"All right," she replied, and he immediately felt cold when her warmth went away. He heard the sink run and he chuckled, understanding her need to clean up a little. As awesome as food play was, that stickiness after the fun was done wasn't the business at all.

Sam shifted until he was lying correctly on the bed, the covers thrown back to allow for space. Mercedes walked back naked as a jaybird, her curves bouncing with her steps, and her smile shy.

"I got you a washcloth—"

He held out his hand to take it from her, not trusting himself to let her near his penis again. Next time she touched him there he was fucking her, condom be damned; and that was a conversation they needed to have.

"Lie down, baby," he said, cleaning himself up and nodding his head to the empty space next to him.

"There's barely enough room for the both of us," Mercedes said as she sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

"There's a whole heap o' me you can lie on," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

She eyed his softened penis. "Will you be able to control that thing?"

"I make no promises," Sam deadpanned, and Mercedes giggle-snorted in response.

"I trust you," she replied, winking at him.

"I love you," he returned.

Her smile widened and she brushed her lips against his. Sam didn't let her go far, throwing the washcloth haphazardly as he drew her completely atop him, naked body against naked body. His cock started to respond but he ignored it, rolling them over until she was between him and the wall. She blinked up at him and he shrugged.

"Just in case some shenanigans pop off."

"Gonna be my hero, baby?"

"Any and everything you need me to be," Sam vowed.

"Right now, a body pillow," Mercedes cracked, slinging an arm over his stomach and resting her head on his shoulder. Sam grinned and pressed his nose against hers.

"Carlos said he expected rhythmic thumpin' and moanin' and groanin' by the time he got back."

"Carlos is a _perv_," she snickered, cupping Sam's cheek. "I would've obliged him, but you wore me out. I'm sore. I forgot how much athleticism was involved with sexin'!"

Sam nodded. "Right—tomorrow, wind sprints, 7AM sharp—"

She pinched his side and he yelped comically, though got her back good with a tickle attack that started another round of giggle-snorts from her that abruptly stopped upon a rap on the door.

"_Hola, novios! _What the hell kinda freak-deaky stuff y'all doin' in _there_?"

Of course, that only made the couple laugh that much harder.


End file.
